


Eros, Laughed: Or The Three Times Roy Tries to Find the Word

by Liminality (TyndallBlue)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: M/M, Obsession, age-difference, perviness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyndallBlue/pseuds/Liminality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pining just seemed inadequate, so innocent and lonely.  One did not hold cenz on their tongue to understand and savor the taste of steel because one was pining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eros, Laughed: Or The Three Times Roy Tries to Find the Word

**Author's Note:**

> “The spiritual result of love is not viable and, having expired, undergoes decomposition.” Jung— Pyschology and Alchemy

### Eros, Laughed

##### Or The Three Times Roy Tries to Find the Word

The first time, it had been pining. That's the word Riza had used to describe this feeling. Well, perhaps not this feeling in particular. She had been speaking about Havoc and yet another end to an unfortunate romance. But, with no offense intended to his dear friend, he did not believe they were wanting in the same way. Pining just seemed inadequate, so innocent and lonely. One did not hold cenz on their tongue to understand and savor the taste of steel because one was pining. This was something deeper and richer, reminding him of the hint of metal on his tongue and blood in a way that just made him ache, and the sacrum of his spine curl up into his pelvis. 

* * *

The second time, he had returned from a meeting to find his team clustered around young Sergeant Fuery's desk. The spectacled man at the center of their attention stuttered and sputtered. Fullmetal was also in attendance, his proud red, back bowed closer to listen. Without his permission, his eyes wandered the length of the leathered legs. “It's just, just her eyes are so beautiful and just this perfect blue like the flowers my mom grew in her garden.” Even hampered by his apparent humiliation he was radiant, lit from the inside. Roy cleared his throat and demanded to know what was going on. Riza stood and sharply saluted. “Apparently, Segeant Fuery is in love, Sir.” Then Fullmetal had turned to him with a very real and genuine smile. “He's gonna propose!” Roy merely nodded and offered his sincerest well-wishes before returning to his private office. There, he turned the word over in his head. Blood now mingled with the taste of steel in his dreams. There he gripped the young man so tight he woke with bloody crescents in his palms. Love, love definitely was not the word.

* * *

The third time, and final time, came slowly. Already, on quiet days, his mind lazily rooted through his childhood vocabulary, recalling distant fuzzy days where Xingese was spoken in a house where he could no longer remember the rooms. That language was no greater help in placing the feeling. Then the time came to renew his certification, and he spent long hours immersed in dead tongues he'd learned under the rough hand of Berthold Hawkeye. He had figured the best way to produce new material was to go back to the basics. Secretly and vainly, he also hoped it would drive hellfire eyes and intimate flashes of an inner wrist or the nape of a neck from his thoughts. 

He lightly perused passages about the vas Hermeticum, already greatly familiar with the importance of the crucible in early alchemy, and in particular the careful application of fire. The sigils and pictures bled into the unus mundim which much wiser alchemists know is only a fraction of the make up of the stone. But there, the joining of Eros and Logos.

Eros.

Like fire in the pit of his stomach, refining those eyes like molten sulfur, golden hair and skin like the sun-born Xerxian god.

Licking sweat from his upperlip, he reached blindly for a circle he knew was carved in the corner of his desk. With a brief flash, the fire flickered and dimmed in the hearth, letting the room cool. Eros, eroticism. The young god who spirited away Psyche in his obsession. Without thought he shrugged his jacket from this shoulders, attempting to bank the heat that threatened to consume him.

* * *

The next day, a shaking hand skipped over the worn edges of dossiers. He searched for something far, something cold. Anything that could help to banish the thought and smell of bronzed flesh from his dreams. Briggs. With only the briefest review he assigned it to his unwanted muse, and approved it. Something in him, not grounded in the fire, keened out a piteous “no!” and withered behind the furious heat. Somewhere, Roy knew, Eros laughed.


End file.
